


Force of Will

by Ringshadow



Series: Dynamic Factors [10]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: D/s, M/M, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 15:53:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3656139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ringshadow/pseuds/Ringshadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil's subspace is affected by stress, and lately he's been drowning in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Force of Will

Phil tries not to think much about his submission, because he gets frustrated and cranky and knows it's not with Clint, it's with his own identity. He can't imagine how frustrating it is for Clint. Subs are difficult enough when they know what they want. It's the duty of the dom to know that, to establish scenes where they're both satisfied.

  
  
But Phil's still all over the map. His submission is that of a young teen just coming into his dynamic, his levels uncertain and his desires more so. Sometimes he craves pain and the way it makes nothing in the world matter except the sting of it, sometimes he needs to be bound and held down so he feels like he can breathe, sometimes he just needs to be held in silence so he can let go.

  
  
"You're a fuckin saint." He groaned this into the bed, trembling raw. He's just sprawled, held by Clint's will and strength. Clint's knelt over him, one hand on the back of his neck, the other on one of his wrists. Phil could get free on seconds, except he can't, his dom wants him here and nowhere else.

  
  
The hand on his wrist tightened and eased. "Go down, baby."

  
  
Usually it's easy for Phil, so easy they can be dancing, so easy he can do it as they walk side by side down the hall. He's done office work in subspace, Clint leaning on the back of his chair with a hand on his neck. Tonight though his mind is full of noise. It had been for the past three days.

  
  
Tony's building is full of LMDs and former AIM supersoldiers. Housing is a huge problem, they'd barely found housing for some of the LMDs and now they have twenty-two extremis soldiers who are just restarting medicine courses.

  
  
We can sleep anywhere, they'd said.

  
  
We've barely slept in months anyway, they'd said, and Phil had stared at them and recognized their eyes. Hypervigilance and exhaustion.

  
  
A floor of offices Tony had been considering turning into housing anyway had been further cleared. Now there are beds, actual beds because there had been LMDs only too happy to go shopping and load a box truck with beds and bedding. Phil had kept them all talking (who are you, where are you from, what do you like) so by the time they'd walked into the emptied offices they had beds with sort of personalized bedding, fresh toiletries and pajamas and creature comforts.

  
  
They'd done almost nothing since then but sleep, eat, and turn already hot showers into steam. Phil had strict orders in motion to leave them all the hell alone. They shifted their stuff, staying in half the floor as the other half was renovated, watching it get turned into a barracks. Another SHIELD floor, of sorts, and not a bad idea, to have the ability to temporarily house a large group on demand.

  
  
They'd had a few requests. Last Phil heard they were eating an inhuman amount of Kraft mac and cheese and playing the first Halo on the first Xbox.

  
  
Clint's hand tensed on the back of Phil's neck, turning his mind away from his newest recruits. "Stay here with me, Phil. Work stops at the door. You know that."

  
  
"I'm sorry." He feels helpless, broken, exhausted. The day the extremis soldiers had arrived, Clint had pulled Phil out of his office, made him kneel, calmed him down. Phil had calmed, but had skipped along the surface of subspace, toiled on the edge of drop, until he'd eventually slept from sheer exhaustion.

  
  
He'd spent the last days like that, increasingly desperate to drop and unable to find it. Impact play had sent him crashing and red lighting out of panic, already on edge, and Clint had just held and rocked him for over an hour after.

  
  
"We'll get you there." Clint sounded sure, calm and dominant but Phil knows his state is straining them both.

  
  
"It shouldn't be like this." He buried his face as his eyes burned, shivering and trying to focus on Clint's hands on him. He is safe. His dom is here. He is safe, he can forget everything for a little while and let go...

  
  
... the LMDs don't have dom or sub concerns anymore because there's no real brain chemistry involved anymore anything they show is a dynamic setting they have control of but the extremis soldiers are a mix of dom sub and neutral and he needs to find out if anyone needs white ribbons or...

  
  
He's sobbing in frustration before he really knows it. "Clint I can't stop thinking and I need to." Clint made a thin noise of distress before cutting it off, clearly upset at Phil's state, and Phil needs, he needs...

  
  
Phil's moving without any real thought, getting free of Clint's hold and yanking him around. Then Clint's sitting against the headboard with his legs spread and Phil's sprawled between them, face buried against his hipbone and arms wrapped around his waist. Clint stayed frozen for a few moments, shocked at the sudden move, and then started stroking Phil's hair with one hand.

  
  
"Is that better?" Clint asked, other hand going to the back of his neck. Phil inhaled his scent greedily, felt the heat of his dick through his jeans and made a hungry noise without meaning to. "Phil? Oh." He shivered, swallowing loudly when Phil bit him through his jeans for a moment before turning his head to nose his groin. "Does my good boy want something?"

  
  
Phil got his eyes open and looked up at Clint, staying where he was. It's hard to articulate really, his mind is still spinning but the idea of doing something, of actually serving Clint is starting to take over.

  
  
He's certainly done oral before, on men and women, but it had always been a possessive act before. Taking pleasure in how he can make his sub shatter and beg while he pinned their hips and controlled when they came. This is different.

  
  
Clint cupped his face for a moment, looking at him as he watched back. "Give me a color, baby." They've done a few scenes, but Phil coming under impact play or at each other's hands in the shower is different than this.

  
  
"Green. Please, sir? Please let me do something for you, let me focus on it..." Phil whimpered, kissing his palm.

  
  
"Yes, okay, do you want me to..." Phil was already getting Clint's jeans open with his mouth, making him swear and arch under him. He's half hard and springs fully to life when Phil's slightly stubbly cheek rubs against him through his boxers. Phil can't quite get those with his teeth so Clint smiles and gets his boxers down for him.

  
  
Phil knows he's dropping into subspace like a stone and it really hits when he first runs his tongue along hot firm flesh. It shivers through him and he relaxed into the bed, swallowing Clint to the base without further exploration. Clint gasped and dug fingers into the hair on the back of his head, and Phil's eyes rolled with the sensation.

  
  
Clint's staring down at him as if nothing else exists, little rough noises of pleasure grating from his chest, both hands caressing his scalp and neck. "That's it, that's fantastic oh my good sweet boy look at you, going down for me like that..."

  
  
The words made real pleasure shudder though him, hips slowly rutting against the bed, trapped in his sweats and pulse thudding in time to the one on his tongue. He tried to ignore how hard he was, it was secondary to Clint's babbling words and rocking hips. He moved his head with the rocking and groaned as Clint slotted into his throat, swallowing around him.

  
  
He's not sure how long he stays there, the world greying at the edges and pleasure hazy, pulling back just a bit to breathe then returning back down, Clint's taste and scent saturating his mind. Eventually Clint shouts as he comes, pressing on Phil's head so he stayed, moaning and swallowing as Clint's come spilled down his throat. He was carefully pulled up after and went willingly, sagging into Clint's arms and kissing back almost lazily until a hand gripped him through his sweats.

  
  
"You're close aren't you, you nearly came just from sucking me off, you're amazing and I love you so much, come for me good boy...” Clint's words spilled out against his mouth, hammering him even further into subspace and he had no real choice but to give it up and do so.

  
  
He fell asleep there, in Clint's arms on top of him, face buried into his neck. Clint ended up shaking a pillow out of a pillowcase then using the case to clean Phil off but he barely noticed, warm and safe and quiet in his dom's arms.


End file.
